The Elliot Spencer Job
by Ivory Greed
Summary: x-over Bones: Sequel to The Seeley Booth Job.  Elliot is missing and the only ones who can help are the two people who they could never trust.
1. What goes wrong    must stay wrong

**A/N: Yes this is a different story, sorry but I could not stand how the other version was going. But I think that this one will be much better! Please review!**

**Chapter 1: What goes wrong . . . must stay wrong**

"Booth, wakeup, phone call."

Seeley Booth rubbed his eyes. Waking up early he could, and had been, handling however, after being promised a full three hours of sleep, he was less than thrilled that one of the privates under his command had woken him up a mere hour into his circadian rhythm. "Who?"

The soldier shrugged, "Didn't say but they threw some clearance code number at me, 18436."

That was all that was required to have Booth on his feet and covered down, "That's from the white house!"

"Yes, Agent Booth, I am calling about a former acquaintance of yours."

The voice was vaguely familiar but through a sleep-induced haze, he couldn't place it. "What acquaintance, Sir?"

The voice dropped to a just audible whisper, "Are you alone, Agent?"  
Booth made a motion to clear the tent and leave him time with the phone, "Yes, Sir."

"Elliot Spencer."

Booth's eyes narrowed and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone, "Sir I assure you that I . . . who are you?"

"Are you sure you are alone," Booth didn't answer. "Listen Booth, Elliot is in trouble."

"And again I say; who are you?"

"Nathan Ford."

"Shut up!" Eliot ducked his head so his hair fell into his eyes when Parker followed him into Nate's apartment.

"I'm just saying, I've never seen you fall down on a job." Parker never broke stride as she tossed her bag on the couch and walked straight to the kitchen.

"Have you ever seen me hit in the side of the head with a monkey wrench, hu?" He shook his hair back showing a growing bruise and still bleeding cut at his temple.

Sophie stomped down the last stair, adjusting her shirt as she went. During their latest job she had been a frazzled house wife and was glad to be back in her designer wear. "Eliot Fainted?"

"I did not faint!" he growled, letting his hair slide forward a bit. That just served to barely hide the blush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks. No one tried to stop him as he stalked to the downstairs bathroom.

Through a mouth of CoCo Puffs Parker muttered, "Did too faint: dented the wall an' everything . . ."

"Easy Parker, you don't want to call the big bad wolf down on us again," Hardison chuckled.

"Whenever you children are ready or anything we can start." Nate, with a freshly poured coffee martini, stood at the monitor, not really looking at anything inparticular. When Hardison and Parker, still munching on cereal, made it to the couch, Nate started, "We'll go on ahead without Eliot."

Lights spun in front of Eliot's eyes even as he rested most of his weight forward on the sink, his elbow mostly being bruised from the soap dish but not caring as it took his mind off of the fricken' jackhammer pulsing at his temple. For a moment, albeit a brief one, he wanted to apologies to anyone he himself had hit in the head with a monkey wrench. No one simple monkey wrench could have made the hitter ache like this, but it sure didn't help.

When he was sure he wouldn't be losing his lunch any time soon Eliot began pulling out the first aid kit, hoping that the butterfly bandages were still stocked. Luckily the cut taped up easily enough and by then his head had stopped pounding a bit. He ran his hand through his hair and put away Nate's first aid kit, sliding it easily behind the toilet. From the other side of the door he could still hear Nate going on about their job and what went wrong, though he was sure that the man had downed about a half bottle of coffee . . . and bourbon.

"Eliot, thank you for joining us," Nate paused mid-sentence to address the hitter, a map of the mark's office building was pulled up and Nate was showing where Parker _should_ have slipped in and how she ended up in the security hub; hence Eliot having to step in and save her.

With a grunt of acknowledgement, Eliot waved him to continue and sat on his chair, an ice pack was waiting on him. As Nate continued Eliot caught Parker looking at him out of the corner of her eye and she smiled. The hitter sighed; it was as much of a "thank you" as he needed.

Two days later, Nate had picked their next client and began the phone tree that was calling the team to action. The game was: Nate had already decided to get Mary McCoy's husband out of prison. Apparently the man, a secretary to the Virginia Governor, had uncovered some form of government corruption and, after trying to bring the information to light, was tried for treason and now faced life in prison.

"Nate, can we at least come to the agreement that any job that requires travel to be given twenty-four hour notice?" Sophie was lazily sipping a white mocha late. Thou fully dressed and makeuped it was obvious that she had been fast asleep a mere forty-five minutes ago.

"Yeah man, you gave me ten minutes to find five tickets on a flight to Virginia, B.T.W, not easy in the slightest," Hardison handed Parker a steaming mug and sat down next to her. "And another thing, I'm tired of these three a.m. phone calls, they're throwing off my circadian rhythm, Ima have to get a Leverage Signal or somethin' like Batman . . . yeah, something cool – and not loud."

The thief was in a pair of sweats and sipped the coffee, her nose crinkling at the bitter taste.

"You've worked with less. Now that we're all here, we can get started." Nate, shifting his notes from the client meeting started, "First, does everyone have a bag?"

Sophie raised a hand, arms crossed and shot Nate a look that he could not mistake, "Aren't we forgetting something?" When Nate gave her his, "I have no clue what you're talking about" look, she continued. "About yea tall, blue eyes – "

"– long hair, bad attitude," Hardison continued.

Parker was adding sugar to her coffee (wherever she got it from) "and Eliot."

Nate looked around, as if seeing the group for the first time, "Did anyone call him?"

In the same instant, Hardison, Parker and Sophie all responded with, "I thought you did."

The mastermind sighed and pulled out his phone, easily dialing Eliot's number. After several rings it went to voice mail, a cover message saying the caller had reached a lumber company based in Canada. "Yeah, Eliot, I thought we agreed that everyone would answer their phones when I called. You need to get to the office now, ewe have a seven a.m. flight to catch." When he hung up the entire team was staring at him. "What?"

Sophie was the first to speak, "I know that voice; that was your sleazy conman voice! Nate, you can't use that on your team!"

Nate, incognizant of any wrong doing shrugged, "I was getting into character." While Nate and Sophie bickered, Hardison called Eliot again, still no answer.

"Parker, try your com," Hardison ordered while dialing one more time. "Guys, Eliot's still not answering. When's the last time anyone saw him?"

"Well, I spoke to him after our last job," Nate did not sound near as sure of himself as the others felt he should.

"That's great Nate, you send him off to lick his wounds without even calling to be sure he's aright?" Sophie hit Nate's shoulder.

"Hardison, do we have any idea where he lives?" Nate sat his coffee down, holding his hands up to Sophie when she glared at him.

The hacker's fingers flew over the keys, "I'm running a search on all of his aliases, but we may get some decoys like Parker's comic place thing."

Parker rejoined the group, a bit more frazzled than she had left. Her hand around her mug was white, "His com is on but no one's answering. What's going on?"

"We're trying Parker,' Nate, seeing nothing that he could do otherwise, was looking over Hardison's shoulder.

"Meaning we don't know – yet," Sophie was struggling with the desire to panic and training to stay calm. Eliot had never not responded before; except for that time he was in the lake . . .

"Okay, I got five addresses." Quickly, Nate jotted down the addresses on post-it notes, "We'll split up, Sophie, you go with Parker, Hardison, we're on our own. Keep coms on, call if you hear anything."

Nate looked down at his post-it note that had two addresses on it, the first one had been a decoy, obviously set by Eliot. Luckily Nate had seen the booby traps before barreling in.

Hardison had fared no better at his address and Sophie and Parker, on their way to their second address, had met (and terrified, when Parker broke into his apartment) an elderly man named Brad Macky.

Now here Nate was, standing in front of a rickety apartment down some smog ridden alley. This was definitely _not_ the place he had expected to see the hitter staying at. He had to climb three flights of metal stairs until he reached what was hopefully Eliot's floor.

"Room 319." Nate sighed when he reached the room, "I hope this is it."

"You one of Mr. Gantry's friends?" A one-eyed plump woman was exiting the room across the hall. Nate didn't have to ask about the name, knowing it as one of the hitters aliases from a few years ago. "I don't know how the building didn't crash down after his visitors last night. Loud music; the entire floor shook. Mr. Gantry's just as good and kind as the next tenant but –"

Nate waited to hear no more before slamming his shoulder into Elliot's door, glad and worried at the same time when the door frame gave way. "Damnit; Sophie, call Brennan."

"Dr. Brennan speaking," Bones held the satellite phone to her ear with one shoulder, not wanting to take her hands off of the infant skull she had found. Without the rest of the body that was trapped under the remains of a toppled ancient structure she was the only one who could answer half of the questions about the child's short life.

"Temperance," the British voice sounded strained, "It's Elliot."

**A/N: Okay, so how was the changes? You likey? Please review or I'll keep changing it! Lol.**


	2. Labor of Love

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this one as well!**

**Chapter 2: A Labor of Love**

Nate waited to hear no more before slamming his shoulder into Elliot's door, glad and worried at the same time when the door frame gave way. "Damnit; Sophie, call Brennan." The sight before him made him stumble back before shutting himself inside the room.

Even as he called agent Booth Nate's eyes were raking over the sparse living room with its broken furniture, bashed in walls and, worst of all, splotches of blood on the threadbare carpet. Moving slowly through the room toward a bedroom, Nate ignored inquiries from the rest of his team. More so, he ignored the voice in the back of his head that said, "This is your fault."

Looking into the bedroom he breathed a strangled breath. "Okay guys, Eliot isn't here." At least he was not dead in the apartment; Nate tried to convince himself. That was something at least. In fact, it seemed that whatever happened in the living room had not spread to the rest of the apartment. "Everyone go back to the office, I'll wait for agent Booth and Dr. Brennan." Nate returned to the living room, trying to trace how the fight must have gone. "Hardison, see if anyone's been moving human cargo lately: they made no attempt to cover the fight so why would they take a dead body. Sophie, send out calls on your end, see if anyone's heard anything of value."

"What about me?" Parker pipped up.

"Parker?" For an instant the name tasted strange on his tongue, as if he had forgotten that she was even there. "Oh, Parker, no, I don't need you to do anything, just go home."

In Sophie's car, the grifter glanced sideways at Parker whose face had fallen. She would have to bring this up with Nate once they were sure Eliot was safe. Because there was nothing else she could do, Sophie settled for patting the thief's leg, hoping she got the maternal connection.

Two knocks meant friend, any other number meant . . . something else so Nate was glad when he heard that second sharp rap and no more while standing in the kitchen. He had finally decided that, while he had many randomly acquired talents, forensics was not one of them.

"Thank you for coming agent Booth," Nate allowed the door to swing freely open and Booth stepped inside, pausing at the thresh hold to take in the scene.

"My God, what happened?" Though he allowed Nate to ease the door shut and chain lock it, he did not come further into the room.

"That's why I called you."

Booth looked at the conman beside him; he could smell the alcohol on his breath and saw the lump in his jacket pocket that could only be a flask, he was too calm to be standing in a room that it looked like the Four Horses could have just come from, not to mention the fact that they had taken his friend. "You should have called the police Nathan."

"Yeah?" The mastermind ran a hand through his hair, having taken his com out two hours before, "Well I didn't, and I can't anyway: I have you. Now, please do whatever it is that your type does and find my hitter."

"They'll find him you know, Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan." Between phone calls, Sophie had taken Parker to a Braums and they were splitting a Black Forrest sundae.

Parker nodded, twirling the plastic spoon in her mouth, "I know." She took a last bite before standing up, "I'm going to go smoke."

Checking an incoming call, Sophie just nodded as Parker walked out of the front door. "Are you ready, Parker, this sundae will go straight to my –" Sophie paused, realizing that Parker had not returned in the time she had taken the phone call. She checked her pockets, "That little thief took my keys! And she doesn't even smoke!" With a grunt that sounded like "bloody hell" Sophie dialed Hardison for a ride back to Nate's apartment.

"Hey."

The first sense awake was hearing, but it came in waves. Strange voices saying strange in strange ways. Eliot understood snippets but, his mind being the haze that it was, he couldn't tell what language it was in.

Next came touch, at least enough to know that it was probably the third time he had been slapped.

By the time his last three senses awoke Eliot could already tell that he was in deep shit: strapped down on some gurney from hell and the language that was being spoken was definitely Korean, Northern if the accents were to be trusted. Eliot did not want to remember the last time he had heard that particular dialect.

_"Ah, Mr. Spencer you are finally awake._" A short man in military dress stepped forward. "_It has been too long."_

A shriek that Eliot would not be proud of afterward burst through his throat as a presser that he had not known was there, began to crush his left knee.

Booth stood up from where he was crouched by blood spatter and tucked his camera phone into his breast pocket.

"What are you doing?" Nate didn't rise from his seat in the kitchen, merely lifted his head off of his hand, "Are you finished?"

"As much as I can be right now Nathan," Booth had been all over the crime scene and, without forensics done on the blood and what body parts made what dents and holes, there was little he was actually getting except that there were most likely two involved and both men were big. "I'll have to call Cam in on this one."

"No, I have Dr. Brennan on her way."

Before Booth could fully process what he heard the door slammed open: apparently the chain lock was as damaged as the door frame. "Please tell me that you did not contaminate the crime scene. If we want to find Elliot in one piece everything has to be perfect." Brennan, still dressed in survival duds, burst through the door and sat her medical bag on the couch before pausing to take in the scene. "Oh, hi Booth."

**(Author's Note: First, yes, I know that Brennan and Booth should have a better reunion, and they will I just thought that that was the best way to end this chapter. If you like it review please because it makes me happy in my happy place! Also, new to this version: I will have more coming soon, I just wanted to get some thoughts on this version before I go on. **

**What do ya'll think?**


	3. Thicker than Blood

**A/N: Sorry for the long update time! It has been hectic here! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 3: Thicker Thank Blood**

Back in Eliot's bedroom to allow Dr. Brennan room to do her work, Booth leaned against the nightstand while Nate paced. "Was he acting strangely the day you saw him or otherwise giving any sign that he felt in danger?"

Nate turned his phone in his hand, not answering but seeming to mumble to himself.

"Nathan, please answer me," Booth took Nate by the elbow, stopping his pacing.

"He was a retrial specialist, Agent, of course there are people, countries even who would love to see him dead. But to answer your question: nothing that he told us about." Before Booth could continue about how sarcasm would get him nowhere, Nate's phone began ringing. Nate put the phone to his ear and held a hand up to quiet Booth. "Go Hardison."

"Okay man, you gotta leave your con on: I've been trying to get a hold of you for over an hour."

"I was wondering what that sound was," Booth thought quietly. Though the phone was not on speakerphone he could still hear the conversation through the com Nate had given him on his arrival.

'Kay, here we go." Hardison's voice shook, "Ten people entered this apartment complex between 9:00pm and 10:00pm but after that all of the cameras on the block went dead, no telling if any of them left. This was premeditated and professional, whatever happened. How are things there?"

From the other room Bones paused in her investigation "This happened not long ago, the blood is still warm. You said the neighbor couldn't place what time she heard the fight?"

"No, she was . . . otherwise engaged," Nate ran a hand through his hair and put his com back in, hanging up his phone. "Okay Hardison, let us know if you get any other information."

"Now, all we need is for you to cooperate with me, Nathan," Booth pulled out a note pad and pen. "Nate, I know this is difficult," the fact that Nate had said "was" a retrieval specialist was not lost on Booth, "but you have to work with me here. Give examples," Booth looked over his shoulder to where Bones was working the crime scene.

"Myanmar, for one and Australia, North Korea, Denmark and that's just what I know, Parker may know more," he motioned for where the thief was helping the anthropologist, "they were pretty close." He had no idea how or even when Parker had entered the picture, just that half way through the interview he looked up and she was there, helping Temperance the only way she knew how, by sitting on the kitchen counter and describing in depth how to crack a Doettling safe in under ten seconds.

Booth could feel that there was something Nate wasn't telling him. Something about the way he was sitting, across from him but not facing him, instead the older man had his right hip further forward so he was sitting at an angle. And the way he held his coffee mug in his hand between them, seeming to close off dialogue. "Nate I get the f –"

"Good news," Bones entered the room, pulling off latex gloves and passing two swabs of blood to Booth, "Elliot could very easily still be alive. "I ran a simple blood test for type; some of the blood is A- but another patch is O. Neither selection is large enough in itself to assume death. At least not right away." Bones put her hands on her hips, something she did when drained but excited. "Now we just have to find him, assuming nothing bad happened outside of this room. I have gathered everything that I can from here and will be sending specimens back to the lab for Hodgins to analyze."

Nate got up, already dialing before the door to apartment shut behind him, 'The best way to make sure nothing _did _happen is to find where he was taken to – yeah, Hardison, search anything in the underground that could be a payoff for human cargo, a bounty, anything. Also, have Sophie use her contacts, the one's she _hasn't_ told us about. And while you're at it give Tara a call." He paused in the stairwell out of earshot of Booth and Brennan, Parker almost collided with him. "Here's the game, Elliot's missing, that, and we don't know where he is. That's what we're working with. We suspect nothing else."

One by one the team gave their nods of agreement.

Back in Elliot's apartment the air was left stagnant by Nate's hasty retreat. Bones still had her hands on her hips and Booth, who had swiftly risen off the chair, had his hands in his pockets.

"So, how was – "

"Good, accomplished a lot in the time I was there." A "hmmm" from Booth. "A-and how was –"

"Good, I accomplished a – what, you said."

The tension of the knowledge of their last encounter hung so thick around the room that it almost choked them. Finally, when they could stand no linger or they both, as one , moved forward an embraced wordlessly.

After a moment or two they pulled back. "Let's go find Nate; we have a criminal to save." Booth grinned, taking Bone's arm as he led her out of the room.

**A/N: Again, sorry for the long update time! Things should be coming a bit sooner now!**


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